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INHUMAN COURTESY

I. PUSHING UP DAISIES

cw: depiction of hanahaki, mention of blood, mild body horror

The Frightful Harvest ended on a bloody, eerie note, but the Respite's most welcome interlude has proven exceptionally fruitful. The sky's darkened again, moons struggling to glow through turbulent clouds, but crops all over Stygia have grown dense and healthy, herbs and plants and flowers aplenty. Normally, it'd be a time to rejoice, even as sleet pours and winds grow bitterly cold -- and it might have been, had greens and stems and petals NOT elected to blossom inside you. Your lungs, specifically.

It's an uncommon side effect of the Harvest, affecting those who foster affection or attraction towards another, triggered only by a stray thought. Almost as if punished by Oblivium for harboring any kind of positive feelings. The worst part is that the object of your desire doesn't even have to be in the Netherworld for you to be afflicted. Over the span of three months, you'll gradually experience various degrees of the "harvest's curse", depending on the source of your feelings:

► PHYSICAL/EMOTIONAL ATTRACTION & REQUITED LOVE
It starts with an itch. Your throat tickles, an odd sensation in your lungs, slightly constricted. Allergies? Not quite. It worsens overtime, and days pass by, perhaps weeks. You cough, a little more every day, a little deeper, and then it happens: petals, stuck to your lips as you wheeze and try to empty your chest. Marigold, carnations, daisies, peonies... Thankfully, for you, it's more of an annoyance, sporadic at best and leaving you exhausted at times, but you're in no immediate danger. Unfortunately, not all Restless share the same luck.

► UNREQUITED LOVE
It doesn't matter whether it is truly unrequited; as long as you think it is, whether you're fully convinced or distantly resigned, you get the whole package. It starts the same way the lesser variation does, gradual, and with unsavory (!) additions: lilies and dark red roses. The first slowly spreads its poison in your body, inducing fevers, skin rashes, blistering in your mouth and stomach aches. The second pricks your throat bloody, making speech difficult and breathing even more so. It spreads throughout Stygia, and if most wound up meeting their end in the past, some speak of a highly hypothetical cure. It's believed that if the object of your affection confesses equally strong feelings for you, the curse should rapidly subside. If this option isn't viable, Doran promises that all Healers in Hale are working extremely hard to find a solution. In the meantime, symptoms can be partially soothed with poultices and spells that you can find in the Marketplace or in Serene. Some merchants might even take pity on you and offer them for free.

if your character has heard of similar diseases in their home world, they're absolutely welcome to share their insight on the netherwork or anywhere else
the evolution of the disease can be as gradual, as fast or as severe as you wish it to be
a mini quest to retrieve ingredients for a cure will be available in december or january
by february, all characters should be cured

II. DO NOT PASS GO

cw: mention of blood, torture, branding, violence, forced captivity

Full-swing investigations concerning the Harvest's murders have begun, though the mysterious rider has yet to resurface. The day is young still, but no matter; the Hierarchy firmly believes that the creature was summoned by a group of renegades, fully intent on finding and dismembering the organization. Perhaps even literally.

If you've spilled blood not your own in the previous event, the Hierarchy finds you. Do they know? It doesn't really matter; they've targeted you for reasons they won't divulge, persuaded of your involvement -- and off to the Gallows you go. Each of you receives the same greeting when you arrive, held down by rough hands and branded upon the arm with the letter F. The mark signifies ‘forsaken’, and the painful scar is indelible proof that each of you has betrayed the Hierarchy's hospitality. Writhe and scream and glower as much as you want; next thing you know, something heavy hits you across the head, and you collapse.

When your vision slowly creeps back, your eyes adjust to a dimly lit stone cell. Your feet are secured by iron cuffs tethered by one long chain, and you lie in nothing but filthy, tattered rags. It's dark; the air is bloated and filled with agonizing shrieks. Dead vines scrap the walls of half-crumbled buildings, weather-worn stone pillars surrounded by withered clumps of grass. You may converse with your cellmates: the guards patrolling the Gallows couldn't care less, convinced that no one could possibly escape anyway.

► Ironically, a magical barrier around the Gallows prevents magical/spiritual abilities from functioning. However, characters who roam free still can absolutely sneak in! Be careful not to get caught, though!
► Loud disagreements might attract unwanted attention. A single guard will come, and if he finds nothing else amiss, will threaten them to be quiet. A second violation earns the offender a rap on their bare feet with a club. A third violation will cause the offender to be gagged. Note that in order to beat or gag the offender, the guard must first open the cell.
► If you share affinities with Gargoyles, incapacitating a guard in any way will draw the attention of one. It'll show you to the gates where you'll be able to escape, taking care of sentries on your way. You should probably keep a low-profile from then on, and avoid showing-off your brand.
► A secret passage may be found through a mausoleum nearby; an arrow of flaking red paint marks the entrance. Or is it blood? Inside, it's nearly pitch-black. Perhaps, if you're lucky, your vision extends as far as 30 feet in front of you, but occasionally, the darkness is broken by clinging phosphorescent fungi or crawling luminescent creatures, and from out of the silence echo sounds of dripping water. You're underground, and Abysmals can be encountered here if you're too loud. You should also watch out for cave-ins, but as you get farther away from the general region of the Gallows, your magical abilities gradually come back.
► Eventually, a long, broken staircase will lead you to Hale. If you're injured, you'll be sent to the main infirmary; characters with healing abilities or knowledge are super welcome to help!

Luckily for you, there are so many prisoners it's a difficult task for the Hierarchy to always keep track of all of them. Your brand, however, is a dead giveaway, so you might as well try and find a way to get rid of it; you might hear through the grapevines that the dead skin of Badaliscus can be used as bandages, and overtime, the brand will fully heal and disappear.

III. TO THE RESCUE

As you attempt to escape, or perhaps once you’ve successfully snuck in, you come across a terrifying spectacle: in front of you, impaled through the shoulder by a spear, a weary humanoid figure covered in blood. The body is being restrained by additional shackles on each arm and leg, which are linked to chains anchored within the walls. There's a guard nearby, armed to the teeth… and still you decide to free them.

The guard’s magic is just as useless as yours, and while impressive in size, dexterity definitely isn’t his main strength. He hits hard — with brass knuckles, a chain mace, and a sturdy shield — and his stamina almost seems endless, but it’s not. Keep evading, and he’ll eventually tire enough to topple over. It’s also possible to have him chase you around if you don’t go too far, which would allow someone else to grab the spear. Once he’s too exhausted to go on, you can either kill him or chain him to the wall. The keys are in his boots, and you’ll find a bottle of water as well as a small vial of ointment in a satchel on the ground, where he previously stood.

The prisoner is a young man, perhaps in his mid-20s. Once freed from his shackles, he immediately keels over, though he’s not unconscious. He thanks you with a deep and raw voice, begging for water. You can tend to his wounds if you’re able—the ointment quickly soothes—and when he finally stands again, he asks you a question: “I’m a stranger to you, and you could have died. Yet, you chose to free me, unaware of my past. Of my crimes. Of my virtues. Why?”

Regardless of your answer, he smiles, a private understanding that turns the stretch of his lips enigmatic. There’s a bubbling chuckle in his throat, very hoarse, and then he hisses, touching where you’ve helped him apply the ointment on his body. “You know what they say. If it stings...” He looks at you, deliberately pausing there and staring bold into your eyes. “... then it must be working.”

It might feel like there’s more to what he’s trying to say, though it’s pointless to ask: he bows, and then he slowly inches away from you. “Until we meet again.” White and thick tendrils of smoke envelop him, seemingly coming out of nowhere, and then just like that, he’s gone.

so you’ve chosen to free him, which in turn has generated a future plot point that’ll occur some time in february. some of you WILL see him again.
what he says to you is a clue.
you can answer his question OOCly right here. it’ll have some bearing on the way your character will be approached re: future plot point.
if you've voted no and would still like to participate, you could always allow your character to be convinced or reluctantly dragged by another!

ooc note

► As always, check out the Notice Board if you'd like additional prompts! Older quests from previous months are always available as well. You'll also find the Calendar right here.
► You'll find already answered questions just here, and if you'd like to ask new ones, ask them here!
► For fun's sake and similarly to the puck adventure, you may play it out in different groups or on your own, and still obtain the same results as everyone else whether your characters threaded together!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Truly... [shalem still feels a little wrong-footed-- clearly cpr isn't needed right now, which is good because the wrong chest compressions could hurt more than help, and shalem knows his strength would be too much for other people.

but somehow he gets the feeling that the man isn't actually asking for a kiss or emergency resuscitation, so he really has to ask.]

Well then...

Why don't you tell me how I can actually help, aside from putting medicine straight onto your tongue? Then I can see if I can actually perform such feats.

[ considering how he's started, it definitely isn't an unreasonable request. even now, he can only think about what misunderstanding his own words bred, but well, he supposed that was no real skin off his back.

that said, now that he's gone over the initial surprise, he's definitely back to feeling a feverish. or more accurately, he seems to be all the more acutely aware of it the second he permits his mind to wander and so he refocuses it back to the conversation at hand. ]

So you're saying there is nothing for my tongue? [ he teases, before he does settle on a slightly more serious response. ] Tell me about yourself. What merit do you get in lending a stranger your hand?

[this man is just begging to have bitter medicine shoved into his mouth the moment he opens it wide enough. the uncharitable thought is certainly not shalem's originally, but it might as well be now. he's already become weak to the advances of his shadow, sometimes he doesn't know when it slips out, which words are his and which are its own.]

The knowledge that I may have alleviated some strain, especially when we're dead, and death should have put us past the strain of the living.

[then he reaches up, fingers over his own lips.]

But, good sir, to answer your previous question, there's nothing pleasant for you unless you prefer a mixture of horribly bitter herbs... or horribly bitter herbs on this. [and by this he means his tongue, which he reveals by pulling his mouth open and revealing that it's forked at the end. by all intents and purposes, if it wasn't forked it would have been like any other person's tongue out there.

but many people tend to have an aversion to even seeing it because of how uncanny it is. shalem's seen it all.]

[ was being charitable a concept or ongoing trend in other parts of the world (or in other worlds, period)? he somehow doesn’t suspect this answer is very clear cut, but his response does garner a brief raise of his brows and palpable surprise. not at all unpleasant, however.

thought speaking of pleasant or unpleasant…

hm. this was certainly different, but to be honest callisto didn’t really seem to mind it. even in his own country, magicians were stigmatized and feared by the general public, and yet he never truly thought about them one way or another. besides, if this was meant to be some sort of a challenge to him, then he wasn’t one to simply back down. ] I suppose they do say the more bitter the medicine, the more effective it is. [ a pause.

he definitely does have his own wonders, though, and so he seems to look him over curiously as if he has a lot to ask. this only seems to sit for a second before: ] I admit if your goal was simply scare me off, you haven’t achieved it. Though, you did succeed in making me more curious about you. [ which is a much needed distraction to be honest… ]

[hmm, he thinks. hmm. this man is not concerned about shalem's "inhuman features" (he just thinks people have never seen races with tails and different ears before), unlike some. oh, they do look at his tail and cringe or start, or any number of reactions, but this man has only given him curiosity, as he's said.]

Then... [shalem wipes his hand on his sleeve.] Indulging in your curiosity is another way to use my mouth. [and not for the way shalem himself assumed.

he tucks the poultices back into his pockets, taking care to cover them properly.]

I suppose I could answer questions. But only if I were to sit while doing so.

[ there's some comfort in the concept that the individual before him seems to oblige to his strange request. if he had to say, it meant his mission was a semi-success and he seems to take some unspoken semblance of pride in this. swelling up a bit despite his ... less than perfect state. still, he does his best to put on a bit of bravado, which wasn't hard considering the air of confidence that normally surrounded him. ] Isn't that what I said from the start?

Don't tell me you were having some impure thoughts? [ he asks this bluntly as if the fault did not lie with him the least (it absolutely is him... he's the problem). but with that said, he seems to agree easily enough.

he peers around them, trying to figure the best place to sit, and with that, his feet is already shuffling to the nearest place. to be honest, he's never really had the pleasure of such unadulterated freedom. ... it wasn't a bad set-up really. ]

You could stand to make your requests more... clear. [because now he knows it was all miscommunication and he didn't need to show his tongue at all.] After all, there are some cultural differences here, are there not?

[a soft rebuke, accompanied by a flick of his tail. still, he follows the man's line of sight, and figures out where to go from there. an old bench, clearly. it looks worn, but as long as the wood is not rotten and it's not propped up by stones, it's perfectly serviceable.]

You've questions, I'm sure. About my very nature.

[ there's a small chuckle at that, as he clearly is getting some minor enjoyment in being reprimanded somehow. despite his own standing as a crown prince, he tended to be more relaxed and the idea that others here don't seem to put airs around him was enough to keep him fairly receptive to it all.

regardless, he does seem to make a fairly good point. cultural differences weren't surprising, just as their social ones, as well. he doesn't see any of the same constructs he was used to in his own world, and well... that wasn't all bad either.

almost in exaggeration, he gestures towards the bench. ] I do, but feel free to rest your weary legs first. [ if he ... were only capable of not being the way he is. ] Would it be too forward of me to simply ask about your appearance?

You're not the first person to ask. [not "would not be". it's already happened, so his choice of words is one he deems appropriate.]

I am the only one of my race here, and so many of you... lack fur, scales, tails, wings. You could say that I'm inured.

[then shalem brushes the bench clear of larger debris-- if he misses some patches of dirt and dust, that's difficult to do with just a single gloved hand-- and waves his hand at it, looking pointedly at the man's eyes. he knows his companion is suffering from an illness currently more painful than the one shalem is afflicted with. he should be sitting first.]

[ to be honest, he wasn't used to others being courteous to him. at least not like this. there was nothing to gain of currying his favor in these lands, and he presumes there was even less to garner from it considering that he didn't come in with his wealth or his title. hence, he stares for a second too long. it isn't that he's never gotten pity, but...

listen, he hasn't even said anything about himself yet to be garnering this kind of concern. still, he doesn't permit this weakness to display in his expression and instead, he stubbornly remains standing, despite how under the weather he feels. he swallows a bit harder than he expects, likely forcing down a petal or two. or clotted blood. he can almost taste it when he speaks. ] So it's a feature of your race, then? Were there a fair amount of you back at home?

Regardless, since you're a healer, I doubt it'd be that big of deal no matter who or what you were. If you desired it, you could simply permit them to suffer while you idly stand watch, isn't that correct?

You're labouring under the assumption that I'm a healer-- I'm not. [so there's really nothing else to respond to, is there?

he takes a second to retie his hair, and tuck it over his shoulder.]

I can wait until you rephrase your question, if you're truly that curious to ask me such things. Right now... it really doesn't apply to me, does it?

[ it's a surprise. was he just someone who tended to be well-prepared then, or someone simply doing their best? it just seemed so natural a motion that it gives callisto some pause. ] Then, what do you normally do, if I may ask? [ because beyond his own assumptions, he tended to be the type who liked seeking out answers. then again, maybe that's only natural considering most of his youth was spend either on the battlefield or in exploration.

still, he eyes seem to study him a bit more carefully, before: ] Have I already lost your favor? [ he says, mostly as a mild jest, before he presses onwards. ] I was simply saying that you seem capable. [ of making people suffer? who knows. maybe he should stop projecting his experiences onto others, but all the same, it's kind of hard not to. but, his jaded views aside, he does temporarily just decide to just listen for once. (once only). ]

[asking for his favour already, when they only just met? shalem doesn't know whether to think that this man thinks highly of himself (but he probably does, really...) or if he's just needy.]

I'm not so unkind to dislike people I've just met immediately, unless they do something so egregious in front of me. Which is not to say that you should try.

[shalem clasps his hands in his lap, looking quite proper.]

As for your question, I was once in the business of messenger work for a large company. You learn to be prepared when transporting goods.

[ that definitely sounded like a challenge to callisto. but, it's one he decides not to impulsively act on. being a contrary individual by nature made it a bit difficult, but he supposed he could manage since the man in front of him seemed fascinating enough. ]

If you do not want others to try, I might suggest not presenting it like a challenge. [ or a threat. he isn't sure which one it really is, but that said. he seems to deliberate over his words: ] Messenger work?

[ hmm... ] What sort of goods would you transporting exactly? [ he's not sure what it is about it, but things were hardly ever as simple as they appeared on the surface, right? ]

Supplies for pharmacists to be able to do their work without worrying about whether or not they'll have enough in the future, and on occasion, medicines from them to those who need it.

[so, not really unlike what he's been doing recently, and he's well aware of that.]

[ ah...

that seems to click or resonate enough for all the facts. if he were related to the medical field then all the more it would explain how readily he had prepared the items that he had. there's a touch of comprehension there before giving a small nod. ]

You must enjoy your field of work, if you can't keep away from it. I feel like the employees in the kingdom could learn a thing or two from you. [ not that they slack off, but well... callisto could be relatively strict. that siad— ]

Do you often find yourself longing for home?

Don't we all? [a question for a question, a rhetoric shalem is quite familiar with, given how easily he responds. then again, he's sure everyone misses home after some time, whatever they consider to be their home.]

What brought this question on, hmm?

[ that's actually more of a complicated question than he expects. but, he presumed everyone had specific aspects of their world they were attached to. whether it was their ambitions, or a familiar face or two in it. whatever the case, it does seem like a decent response considering it does successfully manage to seal his lips for a few seconds.

the only thing that manages to snap him out of his thoughts is that second inquiry. ] It was simply just a thought. [ he coughs, attempting to clear his throat out, but instead he reaches between his teeth to just barely pull a petal out.

letting it drift to the ground, he then finds himself finally deciding to sit on the bench, almost as if resigning himself. ] But, I suppose it is a lot more complicated than I expected. [ a pause. ] I don't think I got your name.

I didn't get yours, either. Perhaps this is now time for introductions, hm?

[it could have been yet another opportunity for rebuke, but shalem is still gentle with him, kind. he simply reaches into his jacket pocket and holds out a handkerchief for the man to take, just in case blood accompanies the next petal he coughs out.

this man strikes him as a person who follows his whims and just says whatever he wants or whatever comes to mind, projecting perceptions to his surroundings. shalem is willing to tolerate that to a point-- if he gets violent or malicious, shalem will put his foot down. but so far? this is really quite pleasant.]

Shalem. My name is Shalem. And yours is...?

[ oddly enough, he feels things have been operating backwards since his arrival here. unlike back at home, no one balked at the "lack of courtesy," or attached themselves to decorum or propriety. despite growing up in the midst of that, he didn't dislike the shift. including the shift in saying his name so after the fact.

granted, it isn't like he really had to introduce himself at home either. though, despite the fact that this man could clearly use this as some means to find fault with him, he instead offers him a handkerchief. which, (after a second too long) he does accept, if more out of the initial shock of it than anything else. ] You really are quite sympathetic, aren't you? [ but, he doesn't mean that in a negative way. it's just... different than what he was accustomed to.

after a moment: ] Callisto. [ there's a brief pause as he stares at the handkerchief. ] Blood will be difficult to remove. [ he says as if warning him?

.... just in case he changes his mind??? ]

I will be worrying about that.

And it's better to get blood on a small scrap of fabric than a pair of trousers or a clean shirt, don't you think?

[he's just not going to say that he knows how to get blood off of clothing. not a conversation he wants to get into.]

Despite your confident, haughty-seeming nature.... you're quite wary, aren't you?

[ another set of kind words that he still manages to be taken aback by. though, as always, he doesn't let the initial shock remain for long. instead, he looks back down at the handkerchief with an contemplative smile. that is, before... ]

While you are actually quite fearless. [ though, also oddly considerate. a fact that he doesn't intend to gloss over even within the confines of his own private considerations that said: ] Or is stubborn a better word?

[ which, he still means in good humor. not all too serious about his own words. ] But, do I truly appear that wary? [ it's a word he doesn't hear often, despite it actually being... quite close to the truth. though, he supposed anyone would be wary were they to share his position. ]

Hmm... [he taps his chin, giving the illusion of thought. then again, he's trying to find the right words to say.]

You act like every act of kindness is merely a ruse. As if every helping will just be taken away when you're reaching for it. [shalem doesn't give voice to another possibility-- that every helping hand is in fact a claw, a trap. a catch.

but he understands that, as well.]

Edited 2022-11-25 04:09 (UTC)

If that's the impression I am giving off, it appears I may be more ill than I expected. [ except, he's in no way serious, even if his ailment is a huge inconvenience. regardless, he coughs out another petal, almost as if being called out on his own bravado. using the handkerchief, he coughs a few times into, the blood all too present on the corner of his lip. ]

In your world, were there a lot of threats? [ it may seem sudden, but it's not at all unrelated all things considered. he guessed just like any world, it came with its fair share of dangers, trials, and tribulations. but, he supposed the thought alone could maybe help frame his thoughts. or justify his own way of being. though, he gets the impression he didn't necessarily need to considering that shalem seemed strangley accommodating? ]

What world doesn't have a lot of threats? [perhaps he's going overboard with these rhetorical questions... and he realizes this. he waves his hands.]

In fact, I would say that if you didn't know how to protect yourself in my world, you needed to be able to surround yourself with those who could do it for you.

But... from experience, the higher position you hold in society, the more it's expected that you know how to protect yourself.